


What You Thought You Saw

by MothTale



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ableist Language, College, Date Rape, Foggy Nelson needs a hug, Gen, Hurt Some Comfort, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson at Columbia, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 07:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21240569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothTale/pseuds/MothTale
Summary: For a prompt on the daredevilkink kink meme.‘Foggy, do you remember who I left the party with?’ Matt asked.‘I left before you, buddy. Do you not remember that part?’Matt flinched, and all Foggy was thinking wasno. No. He didn’t want Matt to speak, didn’t want to hear that his best friend had been drugged.





	What You Thought You Saw

**Author's Note:**

> For this [prompt](https://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/8773.html?thread=18734917#cmt18734917).
> 
> This fic has been sitting on my computer for about a month, so I thought I'd go ahead and post it. I wanted to write a more upbeat or conclusive ending (perhaps with Matt finding the guy and beating him to a pulp, y'know, something cathartic and not at all pessimistic) but nothing really worked. And all the prompt really asked for was for the characters to feel bad. So they do.

Foggy was beginning to think maybe he’d tripped on that dodgy rug by the front door, that he’d fallen and broken his neck and this whole thing -- the girl whose ass he was touching and whose hair was soft and silky against his collarbone -- was just an elaborate pre-death hallucination while he lay twitching on the floor.

He could smell her shampoo. Feel her lips as they touched his neck.

She wasn’t the vixen who’d tempted him into taking Punjabi -- Foggy had kinda known that one wasn’t going to go anywhere. No, her name was Abby and she was in two of his other classes. She was cute, sweet and funny.

And he’d been making out with her on-and-off for the past twenty minutes.

Foggy felt not even the barest sliver of regret for the essay he was supposed to be writing. The essay which was still two-thousand words short and was due the day after tomorrow. It could wait.

‘My place?’ she asked, after breaking away from a long, sloppy kiss.

The way she said it was just adorable -- eager and shy.

Yup. No regrets over dragging Matt away from his desk and--

Oh. Matt.

‘Gimme two minutes. I just gotta go check with my roomie. We might need to walk him back home first, he’s--’

‘Blind, I know. I gotta go let my friends know I’m leaving anyway. Meet you outside by the door?’

Foggy found Matt only a few steps away from where he had left him, when Matt had pushed him towards Abby and told him to ‘go talk to her, already.’

Matt had gotten a space on the couch, laughing at something the girl opposite him had said. He had a cup in his hand, apparently risking the ‘punch’ even though Foggy was pretty sure it must taste like motor fuel by this point. He’d seen a guy top it up with a full bottle of cheap vodka an hour ago. Foggy very much doubted anything non-alcoholic had made it in since the bowl had been set out on the counter-top at the start of the evening.

Somehow Matt turned his head towards Foggy before he got a word out, and Foggy was more convinced than ever that Matt could tell who and where he was by scent or something -- like a dog. He definitely had the puppy eyes down already.

‘You hit it off?’ Matt said, smirking like he knew the answer already.

‘Yeah. We’re going back to her place. I can walk you back to ours first if you want?’

The girl Matt had been talking to was smoking hot. Glossy, dark hair. Long legs. Foggy expected nothing less. Matt Murdock had a nose and an ear for beauty, apparently. Or else just a sixth-sense tuned into the finer points of the female form.

Matt tipped his head to one side, still smirking.

‘No, you don’t need to do that.’

‘We’ll make sure he gets back okay.’

A guy, one Foggy hadn’t noticed, spoke up from next to Matt. The girl on the other couch was nodding, and Foggy saw Abby getting her coat from the pile by the door. She looked up, saw Foggy and smiled.

‘Okay. Well, see you tomorrow.’

‘I won’t,’ Matt said, and Foggy could tell from the way his head was lolling about that Matt was pretty drunk already. Foggy hoped he’d be calling it a night soon, or he’d risk blowing his chances of getting laid.

Not that Matt needed any help there.

Foggy, on the other hand…

‘You’re hilarious, Matt,’ Foggy said, patting him on the shoulder before he headed off across the room, back to Abby.

\--

Foggy leaned across the bed to scoop up his jeans from the floor and check through his wallet.

‘Uh…’

‘What is it?’

‘Are you gonna lock the door on me if I go real quick and then come back?’

‘No condoms?’ Abby asked, and there was disappointment there but maybe not enough for him to have screwed this up already.

‘Yeah. I can go back to mine, grab some, come back. Five minutes, max.’

Abby gave him a look -- annoyed, sure, but also amused.

‘Five minutes,’ she said. ‘Or I’m starting without you.’

\--

He was out of breath by the time he made it back to his and Matt’s room. He didn’t knock, just got out his keys and fit them into the lock. With any luck Matt would be elsewhere, enjoying himself with the brunette from the party, or he’d be here, passed out and unable to laugh at Foggy for forgetting something so crucial.

He heard the noise as soon as he had the door open.

The grunting and gasping.

Matt’s bedside light was on.

There were two people on his bed -- one was Matt, and the other was not the brunette with the long legs that Matt had been talking to. Wasn’t even a girl.

So, his best friend swung both ways. That was cool. Not a big deal. Foggy was just kind of hurt Matt hadn’t mentioned it already.

‘Shit, sorry--’

‘What the hell, man?’

The man on top of Matt was pissed -- of course he was. And Matt was lying there, probably equally as pissed but just not saying anything.

‘I am so...Just needed to grab some--...I’ll be gone in ten seconds and you can go back to...whatever.’

He kept his head turned away, trying not to get more of an eyeful than he had already. Matt’s partner made irritated noises while Foggy fumbled through his bedside table.

Matt still hadn’t said anything, and Foggy could already tell things were going to be awkward tomorrow when they saw each other.

He found the pack of condoms, ended up stuffing the whole pack into the pocket of his jacket. It was mostly full, and Foggy doubted even Captain America would be able to plow through that many in a single night, but he just needed to get out of the damn room before--

‘Foggy…’

Yup. Awkward as hell. He could hear the exasperation and embarrassment in Matt’s voice.

‘It’s okay. He’s leaving now,’ Matt’s partner said, his voice soft. And when Foggy turned to head for the door he saw the man leaning over Matt, lowering his lips towards his.

Foggy finally made it out into the hall.

God damn it, they needed a system or something. Some sort of sign which meant: _Beware, consenting adults engaged in sexual activity ahead. Enter at your own risk._

But he had what he came for. And about a minute to get back to where he needed to be.

\--

He stayed at Abby’s for breakfast. They ended up making pancakes for her roommate, who had spent the night on someone’s couch, and for some of her neighbours too.

They made plans to meet for coffee later that week, and Foggy didn’t even think about Matt and what he had walked in on until his key was in the lock and he was staring at the door in front of him.

All it would take was one decent laugh, and things would be fine. The awkwardness would go. It always did.

Hell, Foggy had pretty much flirted (badly) with Matt the first time they met, and it had gone okay.

They’d be fine.

\--

Matt wasn’t in the room.

But his bed was stripped and his laundry bag gone, so Foggy had a pretty good idea of where he was.

It was a reprieve, of sorts. A chance to work out what to say in order to nip any potential awkwardness in the bud, so he didn’t just open his mouth and blurt out something which would make it worse.

He still needed to go to the library and come up with two thousand words of passable bullshit, and he’d been hoping to get Matt to help him out. At least the guy Matt had been with hadn’t seemed too freaked out, and judging from the kiss as Foggy had been about to leave they’d probably gotten right back to it. So it wasn’t like he was responsible for ruining their sweet, tender, gay lovemaking.

Right, he couldn’t just be sitting around waiting for Matt to get back. That would be weird. So, textbooks. Notes. Studying. Maybe Matt would have some quip about seeing him doing work, then Foggy could call him a nerd and casually apologise for walking in on Matt -- Matt would say it was fine and they’d be back to normal.

\--

When Matt came back he didn’t say anything about the studying. He hardly said anything at all, just barely acknowledging Foggy’s presence.

Maybe he was pissed. Maybe the whole gay or bisexual thing -- whatever it was -- was supposed to be a secret, one Foggy wasn’t ready to be trusted with quite yet.

Matt went to work putting his bed back together.

Foggy carried on turning the pages of his textbook, because otherwise Matt would hear and know he was staring.

He was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie -- Foggy was very jealous of the latter. He’d felt the lining once and it was stupidly soft. He imagined wearing it must feel like being cuddled by a cloud. Foggy had actually referred to it once or twice as the ‘snuggle hoodie’ and Matt had laughed. It wasn’t usually something he wore outside their room, even just downstairs to the launderette.

The next thing Foggy noticed was his breathing. It was measured -- like when he meditated, but not as calm.

It was probably a hangover, probably just him focusing on not throwing up. Wasn’t surprising considering the mix of alcohol that would have been present in that punch.

‘Can’t believe you drank that stuff…’ Foggy said.

Matt froze.

‘What?’

‘The punch. It must have been gross, right?’

‘Yeah.’

Any other time Matt would have rattled off a list of ingredients, and Foggy would have laughed and marvelled at him. But this time Matt was silent.

It was a few moments before he went back to the bed, his hands brushing over the sheets until he found the pillowcase he’s been about to slide on before Foggy had spoken.

Just talking about the punch had been a bad idea. Matt looked like he wanted to throw up, like he was only holding back by the skin of his teeth.

‘Y’know, I’m gonna head to the library, I’ve got two thousand words to write which I should probably make a start on. You want me to pick you up anything from the store on the way back? Painkillers, maybe?’

‘No, thanks. I’m okay.’

Foggy didn’t believe it, but he left anyway.

\--

Matt was gone again when Foggy came back, several hours later than he’d planned.

The essay had been kicking his ass for a while, but he’d wrangled it into submission in the end.

As he set his bag down on the desk he noticed something off about Matt’s bed.

It had been remade again, with new sheets and pillowcases, and there was a strong smell of detergent. Foggy’s detergent. He sniffed the corner of the duvet to make sure.

Matt used some sort of hypoallergenic detergent with no fragrance, whereas Foggy bought whatever was cheapest. There was a thick scent of artificial lavender and chamomile, like Matt had just thrown caution to the wind, decided not to measure it out and just poured straight from the bottle.

When Foggy found his detergent, still sitting on the floor by Matt’s empty laundry bag, it was a hell of a lot lighter than he remembered it.

He heard a key jangling at the lock, and he got up to let Matt in.

It didn’t take a genius to know something was wrong.

Matt flinched when the door opened, and Foggy stepped back.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.’

Matt’s hair was wet, and he had his shower things with him. The skin on his face looked red, like he’d been scrubbing at it over and over, but it might just have been the heat from the shower.

Matt shuffled in, and sat on his bed.

He stood straight back up and starting tugging at the sheets. Ripping at them.

‘Woah, Matt. Calm down.’

Matt let go and staggered back. For a second he looked like he was going to fall, and Foggy moved to intercept him, but he righted himself.

‘It doesn’t smell right,’ Matt said.

Any other time Foggy would have joked about Matt sounding like a Noir detective, but there was pain in Matt’s voice.

Something cold and dreadful was starting to creep into Foggy’s head.

‘Matt, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Here, come sit on my bed.’

Gently he touched Matt’s arm and guided him over.

‘Foggy, do you remember who I left the party with?’ Matt asked. And the tone of his voice was just making the cold and dreadful thing bigger and bigger.

‘I left before you, buddy. Do you not remember that part?’

Matt flinched, and all Foggy was thinking was _no_. No. He didn’t want Matt to speak, didn’t want to hear--

Matt shook his head. Mouth kept closed like he knew what Foggy was thinking. Or maybe he felt the same -- didn’t want to reach the natural conclusion to all this.

\--that his best friend had been drugged.

Which made what Foggy had walked in on a whole different animal entirely.

Foggy would have given anything to have the embarrassment back, rather than this feeling. Cold. Slimy. Disgusting.

‘M-maybe I was just drank too much,’ Matt said, shrugging. He tried to push a shaky grin into place, went to stand up.

Foggy grabbed onto his sleeve.

‘Matt, how much do you remember exactly?’

‘It’s not--’

‘Matty, just tell me how much you remember.’

Matt’s lower lip wobbled and he shook his head again. Foggy thought he understood. If they didn’t talk about it, didn’t acknowledge it, then it would go away. Fade into the background until it was like nothing happened.

And maybe Foggy could have let Matt get away with that, if he hadn’t seen it himself. There was no way he was keeping that secret, he couldn’t.

If Matt didn’t talk, then Foggy wo--

‘There was that girl you like. Amy or Abby. I told you to talk to her, then I talked to--to Greg, from down the hall. And he introduced me to someone else and then I...I don’t remember.’

His brow was furrowing with the effort of concentrating, and Foggy was sure that if he took away the glasses Matt’s eyes would be panicked.

Foggy swallowed.

‘And how much had you had to drink until that point?’

‘Just the beer that you got me…’

‘When I last talked to you, you were sat on the couch drinking the punch. There was a girl opposite you, uh. You don’t remember that?’

Matt’s head shake was tiny. But it was clear.

_No_.

Foggy remembered.

Remembered a man’s voice saying _we’ll make sure he gets back okay_.

And then Matt calling his name when he’d stumbled in. Not irritated like he thought but asking -- begging -- for help and Foggy had just walked out. Left him there.

‘Foggy, I think I--I think a guy had sex with me.’

Matt’s voice shook.

Foggy didn’t know what to say at first, tried not to think about what his friend was telling him.

‘Do you...do you need to go to the hospital?’

Matt broke and Foggy just sat there staring.

What was he supposed to do?

If he tried to touch Matt, would he freak out? Or might a hug actually help right now?

Foggy knew one thing -- there was no way he could tell Matt the truth.

He’d hate him.

Knowing he was there and he’d done nothing. Had thought Matt wanted it. Had been annoyed at him for not telling him he was into guys as well. Had even _apologised_ to the guy like an idiot, unable to realise that his best friend needed his help.

‘No. No,’ Matt managed, in between sobs. ‘I’m not...not hurt.’

‘You should at least get checked for--’

Matt shook his head.

Foggy let it go. Matt sniffed a few more times before he seemed to get control of himself again, and his shoulders stiffened.

‘Matt, you should tell someone. Report this--’

‘And tell them what, Foggy? I don’t remember it and...and even if I did,’ Matt said, with a bitter smile, gesturing towards his face. To his eyes. ‘What do I tell them? I can’t give them a description based on what the guy smelled like, or sounded like. And supposing I remembered something useful like his name, all he has to do is say--say I wanted it, say it was a misunderstanding. A mistake. No, Foggy. I can’t.’

‘Alright, buddy. Alright.’

Foggy thought back to the glimpse he’d had in the dark, before he’d looked away. To what he’d seen of the guy -- if it was the one who’d spoken next to Matt -- at the party.

He was pretty sure the guy had been white, but other than that he had nothing. Couldn’t even lock in a hair colour.

Just as useless. Even more so.

He heard Matt mutter something, full of self-loathing and more anger than the mild-mannered Matt Murdock he knew seemed capable of.

‘What?’

‘I should have been able to stop him,’ Matt said.

‘Matty, no. That’s not how this works, okay? Don’t do that to yourself.’

Funny, how he was thinking almost exactly what Foggy was thinking.

_I should have stopped him. Should have pushed him right off of Matt and knocked his fucking teeth out._

‘But it’s true.’

Foggy didn’t want to be insensitive, to point out the obvious here. It was hard to throw a punch when you couldn’t see where you where aiming at.

‘I should’ve...should’ve known better.’

‘Matty, no. Just stop. It’s not your fault. You’re not the prick who drugged the blind guy--’

The words left his mouth before his brain caught up.

Matt flinched like Foggy had punched him. No, more like Foggy had stabbed him. Stuck a knife in his belly and twisted.

‘Matt...I…’

_Fix it. Fix it, goddamnit._

‘I’m here,’ Foggy said, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his gut. ‘Whatever it is you need right now, just tell me and I’ll do my best--’ _I’m so sorry I left you there, buddy. I’m sorry I didn’t realise. That I didn’t protect you._

‘I can’t get his smell off me,’ Matt said, his voice shaking. ‘It’s on my skin, and my bed, and it won’t go away.’

‘I can swap beds with you. If that’ll help?’

He got a nod.

\--

They watched cartoons for the rest of the night -- mostly _Scooby-Doo_ and _Looney Tunes_, ones Matt remembered from his nine years of sight. Matt laughed a few times at Foggy’s narration, but otherwise he was quiet.

Foggy kept good on his promise to swap beds -- when he woke up the next morning he could taste lavender at the back of his throat.

It didn’t feel like penance enough.

Maybe he should talk to Matt, see if he could get some pointers. How many Hail Mary’s would it take to wash away the sin of leaving your best friend with a monster in his bed?

He kept hearing Matt saying his name, kept seeing the guy on top of him leaning down to kiss Matt’s lips.

_‘It’s okay. He’s leaving now.’_

_I didn’t know it wasn’t consensual. If I knew I’d have done something. I’d have helped him._

He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears.

‘Foggy?’

Matt’s voice was soft.

_Don’t tell me he can smell tears?_

‘Yeah?’

‘Thank you for...y’know. Last night. It helped.’

Foggy raised his head, saw Matt sitting on the floor in his pyjamas, probably fresh from meditation -- Foggy still didn’t get the appeal of that. He was smiling, and it was small and fragile and somehow made Foggy’s insides sink like a rock.

‘Sure. Uh, what are friends for, right?’

_You called for me._

He forced on a smile, even though Matt couldn’t see it. So he could play along too. This game that everything would be fine.

_You called my name and begged me for help._

_And I walked away._


End file.
